


spread your wings and all that shit

by listentotheink



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 09:40:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/911718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/listentotheink/pseuds/listentotheink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>they've all but broken up, but they weren'i even together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	spread your wings and all that shit

“Harry.” Louis says quietly. He’s making breakfast for them both, flipping eggs as he hums along to a Beatles song on the radio. It changes from the cheery tune of Love Me Do, to Trouble by Ray LaMontagne, and Harry doesn’t miss a beat. He’s got the breakfast playlist memorized. It’ll go from Ray to Backstreet Boys, and from there it’ll go to the Hurts. And Louis will complain about how much “indie shit” Harry listens to, even though he secretly loves his little “hipster boy.”

“Sleeping beauty is finally awake!” Harry says, turning with a cheerful smile. He nods to the table. “I’ve made your tea, and your egg on toast will be done in a mo’. Just waiting for the eggs to be ready.”

“Harry.” Louis says again, the same quiet tone as before. Harry turns back to the cooktop and flips the eggs one last time before he slides them onto a piece of toast. He crosses the kitchen to where Louis has sat, bundled up in one of Harry’s jumpers and a pair of joggers, his hair still floppy and flat. But it’s not the lazy morning look that has Harry stopping in his tracks.

It’s how dead the usually bright blue eyes that he loves so much look. How dead Louis looks. He’s tired, there’s no doubt about it. He’s got bags under his eyes, and he hasn’t shaved in a good three days. His head hangs slightly lower than normal, and it hurts Harry’s heart. Because he wants nothing more than to see his boy happy. Seeing him this way, so different from the bright ball of energy he normally is, scares Harry quite a bit. Because tired Louis is a vulnerable Louis. Vulnerable Louis forgets that he needs Harry. He always, always, always forgets. He always, always, always needs Harry.

“You look like shit, mate.” Harry says, trying for light. Trying to coax a smile out of the other lad. It doesn’t work. It’s not even fucking close to working. And Harry doesn’t really know why he made the effort in the first place. So he just sets the two plates of eggs down, and takes his seat across from Louis, who is currently running his hands over his face. Even in his sleepy, panicked state, Harry still thinks he looks beautiful. Louis always looks beautiful. No matter what he does, how he dresses. Harry can’t find a single flaw in him, other than the fact he was completely oblivious to Harry being stupid for him.

“I was up all night, thinking.”

“This isn’t your anxiety, again, is it?” Harry asks, taking a sip of tea. “Because the sun isn’t going to burn out for billions of years, mate. You’ll be long dead before that happens. Don’t see a reason to worry.”

Louis shakes his head. “It’s not that, but thanks for reminding me.”

His hands shake as he picks up his mug of tea, and Harry knows that whatever he was thinking about couldn’t have been good.

“Would you like to enlighten me, then?”

Louis stares down into his mug of tea, runs his index finger over the rim of it, takes another sip, repeats. Harry takes a breath. Louis picks up his fork, sets it back down. Takes another sip of tea.

“I uh... Well.. I think... I th-think that, maybe. We should. Maybe. Get our own places? Like. One of us move out, or something?”

Harry’s breath catches, and then he barks a laugh. Because Louis can’t be serious, can he? Like he can’t actually want Harry to move out, that’s absurd. They hadn’t been arguing, or having problems with each other. If they had, they would have talked about it. That’s how they operated. They fought, they talked it out, and that was that. Nothing had ever come between them, nothing ever would.  They were louisandharry. One thing. A Buy One Get One special. They weren’t two separate people anymore. They hadn’t been for a long time.

“Why are you laughing, Harry?” Louis says, looking across the table and meeting Harry’s eyes. “This isn’t anything to laugh about. I-I want you to move out.”

“You-you’re serious?” Harry says, taking deep breaths to calm down. Louis holds his gaze, and he nods. “But.. Why?”

“You’re not sixteen anymore, Harry.” Louis says, his voice going from quiet to sharp. “You don’t need me to look after you any longer. It’s part of growing up, living on your own. Time for you to leave the nest, mate. Spread your wings and all that shit.”

Harry doesn’t know what to say, so he just shoves himself back from the table, walks to the bathroom, and spills the tea that had settled in his stomach into the toilet. He didn’t realize that he even felt sick until there was vomit in the toilet, and soon he’s pitching bile into the porcelain, and breathing heavily because he never thought this would ever fucking happen.

This time, Louis doesn’t walk through the door to rub his back while he gets sick. There’s no comforting voice behind him coaxing him through it. He’s alone and his resting his head against his forearm as he settles the weight of his torso on the toilet. And he’s breathing deeply to calm himself down before he passes out.

When he settles down, he ventures out to hear the soft sounds of a footy match coming from the telly in the living room, but he goes left instead of right, and he curls up in his bed and falls asleep again.

He wakes up to a faint “I’m sorry, Hazza” and a gentle kiss being pressed into his curls before he hears the door shut quietly.

 

Louis didn’t want to tell Harry to move out. He really didn’t, but you know. When you’re in the position he’s in, he had to fucking do something. He couldn’t just sit by and let the rumors affect their relationship like he knows they’re going to. Especially not when he feels like he’s feeling more for Harry than just the friendship they’ve both slipped into. No. He needs to get Harry out. He needs to get him away. Push him away so the fans stop thinking they’re together. Because that’s never going to happen. Not in a million years.

So that’s how he finds himself telling Harry (nicely, he likes to think) that it’s time for him to move away. Time for him to find a place of his own. And that’s how he ignores his best friend (could be boyfriend maybe because they’re louisandharry) throwing up in the toilet. And that’s how he finds himself closing Harry’s door after he’s sure the boy is asleep. How he presses a kiss to the mass of curls and whispers I’m sorry.

That’s how he finds himself helping Harry flat shop the next day, even though neither of them are ready for this and they both know it but are unwilling to say it to each other. Louis stands his ground, even when Harry says he doesn’t like any of the places they’ve looked at. So Louis tells him to move in with Ed or something, and Harry gets angry with him and locks himself in his room for the rest of the afternoon and well into the night.

The next morning, all of Harry’s stuff is packed, and sitting in their front hallway, Louis isn’t sure where he managed to get all the boxes, not without leaving his room. Which he hadn’t. Louis would have known if he had. Unless he left after Louis had gone to bed and returned before he woke up, which was entirely plausible. And would explain the boxes.

He scratches his head, and walks into the kitchen, only to see a mug of cold tea and a plate of cold eggs sitting in front of his chair at the table. He deserved that, he thinks.

He’s just starting to eat when he hears a loud laugh coming through the door, and he’s about to tell Harry to unpack, that this is a big fucking mistake, that he needs him, wants him to stay. When he sees Nick fucking Grimshaw walk through the door, Harry hanging off his waist as they move towards the stack of boxes. And they’re talking and laughing and Louis is standing in the doorway of the kitchen just watching as they carry on, leaving the house and carrying boxes to a, presumably Harry’s, car. They make a few trips and Louis just stands still, hoping that they’ll notice he’s there. Or that Harry will at least have the decency to say bye.

He does. Harry. Harry has the decency to say bye. But that’s just it. He says bye, that he’s staying at Nick’s for a while, and then he’s gone, and Louis is left, standing in the doorway, watching his back as he walks away.

 

It’s strange, for a while. At least for Harry. He hasn’t exactly spoken to Louis in a few weeks. But he’s settled into his own flat quite nicely, even if it’s not home. He’s used to the smaller boy coming into his room late at night for a cuddle, or climbing into his bed for the morning music video. And the first time he makes breakfast, he gets out two plates and call’s Louis’ name, but then he remembers and he lets the sink water run a little longer than he should as he braces his weight on the counter and cries a bit.

It’s tough, without him. And he thinks that he can maybe make it one more week before he shows back up at their, no, Louis’ flat. His stuff packed and ready to come back home. He’s only really rented this place out for a month. The owners were out of town, and said they didn’t mind. So. Yeah. He can make it one more week before he caves. Before making one cup of tea instead of two drives him mental. Before walking into the house and not seeing eight pairs of smelly toms lined up against the wall makes him break down. Before the fact that he can’t walk across the hall and cuddle with the man he’s in love with tears him apart.

And. Well. If he was a dick, and left one of his jumpers behind in Louis’ room... He’s not going to say anything.

 

The first thing Louis finds when Harry leaves, is Harry’s purple Jack Willis jumper.

And he hugs it to his chest, and cries for a long time.


End file.
